Chapter Six
Rancor
The old Harley’s carburetor currently lay in several pieces on my workbench. My work light over the table cast long shadows across the concrete floor. I didn’t need much light because there was no way I’d get much done on this thing. All I could concentrate on was Cora.
Three days since I’d seen her. Three days since she’d left with that fucking sage plant and an honest-to-God real-ass smile. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, real warmth spread through me like a spring thaw.
I’d texted her once, just to make sure she got home safe. She’d responded with a photo of the sage sitting in her kitchen window. Not much, but I didn’t like to talk much. Texting always proved to be a special kind of hell for me, but I’d do it for her.
My phone sat dark on the workbench beside me.
Cora usually texted before she brought something.
We had a scheduled delivery today sometime around three, but I hadn’t heard from her.
I was trying to wean myself from the phone, but knowing I would see her soon had me wound as tight as a teenager going on his first date.
I didn’t like that I couldn’t control myself with regard to Cora.
The door to my workshop slid open, spilling brighter light across my workbench. I didn’t look up, knowing one of my brothers likely came to check on me. “You see what time it is?” Knight asked, his voice pitched low despite us being alone.
I kept my eyes on my work. “Nope.” To be honest, I took pride in the fact I hadn’t looked at my phone since I’d started on this thing after lunch.
“Didn’t the old ladies do a grocery order for today?”
That made me look up. Knight stood in the doorway, his tattooed face serious in the half-light, his colored-in eyes impossible to read.
But I knew the set of his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped against his thigh.
He wasn’t upset exactly. Disconcerted seemed like a better description. Maybe even worried.
“Scheduled for three,” I said, setting down the part I’d been cleaning. “She’s late? What time is it?” I reached for my phone and glanced at the screen. “Four seventeen,” I muttered. “Fuck.” I unlocked the screen and checked my messages. Nothing.
“That’s not all either. Been some strange cars circling the compound today. Non-club. Non-cop, but moving with purpose.”
I wiped my hands on a rag, trying to hold back the sudden surge of unease. “What kind of purpose?”
“The kind that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.” Knight stepped fully into the workshop, letting the door close behind him. “I’ve spotted the same sedan three times, different drivers. And a van that’s made two passes.”
I stood, rolling my shoulders to release the sudden tension. And the very real worry something was wrong with Cora.
“She text you?” Knight asked, watching me carefully.
I shook my head. “No.”
“That normal?”
“Not really.”
“She’s not picked up the girls’ order, according to the app. And, of course, no one else will get it.” I quickly brought her name up on my phone and called her, not taking my gaze from Knight’s. “Straight to voicemail.”
Knight’s jaw tightened. “There’s something else. Tiny saw a police cruiser following a vehicle that matched Cora’s description about two hours ago. Heading east on River Road.”
I stared at the dismantled carburetor for a long moment, needing to think and not react. Everything primitive inside me wanted to take off at a dead run, find Cora, and annihilate anything threatening her.
“Do you think it’s possible she’s working with the police, Rancor?” Knight asked in a quiet voice. “She doesn’t strike me as the type, but…”
I shook my head. “Can’t deny it’s Goddamned convenient,” I whispered. The pain slicing through my chest at the thought of Cora betraying me nearly brought me to my knees. “Cora started coming here after we were basically blackballed from a fuckin’ delivery app. But why?”
“Since when do the police need a reason to keep close tabs on a compound full of ex-convicts?” Knight wasn’t given to snark, but even I could admit that was a stupid question.
“Get eyes on River Road,” I said, my voice steady despite the pressure building in my chest. “Check the route between here and her apartment. Call Knuckles.”
Knight nodded, already pulling out his phone. “What are you thinking?”
“Thinking someone’s taking an interest in our delivery girl.” I reached for my cut, the leather vest heavy with the weight of patches and memories. “And I don’t like coincidences.”
“You know this is about. Don’t you?” My gaze snapped to Knight’s. He’d been able to read me like a book since the day we’d met. Only this time, I hadn’t even acknowledged to myself I knew what was going on.
“Maybe. Can you get a look at whoever is in those vehicles?”
“I can try. The windows are tinted pretty dark, but I can at least get a different angle on the street. See if I can figure out better what we’re up against. What are you thinking?”
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated. I lunged for it, snatching it up and unlocking the screen. A text from an unknown number.
This is Cora. I apologize for the delay. I had an unexpected errand. I’ll be arriving at the compound in approximately 30 minutes with your delivery. Thank you for your patience.
I stared at the message, something cold sliding down my spine. In the three weeks I’d known her, Cora had never texted like this. She sounded formal, stiff, like someone was watching over her shoulder as she typed.
Or like someone else entirely had written it.
Knight appeared at my side, his own phone in hand. “Diesel just called in. Said he spotted her car heading this way, but she’s not alone. Black sedan following at a distance.”
I made a decision. “Get Knuckles,” I grunted. “I may need backup.”
“You think she’s in trouble?”
“I think someone’s using her to get to me, or the club.
” I started walking toward the main gate, Knight falling into step beside me.
I showed him the text. It had come through the delivery app instead of her messaging me directly like she usually did.
“And I don’t like people fuckin’ touchin’ what’s mine. ”
The words slipped out before I could catch them. Knight didn’t comment, but I saw the slight lift of his eyebrow. I didn’t correct myself. Some things didn’t need explaining.
“What’s the play here?” Knight asked as we reached the gate.
“We wait,” I said, taking up a position where I could see the road approaching the compound. “We watch. And we find out what kind of trouble she’s bringing to our door.”
Knight’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. “Knuckles is coming to us. Said to meet him at the gatehouse.”
Perfect. We could control the situation better if we contained it inside our territory. If I could get Cora inside, we could keep everyone else out.
The gatehouse was exactly what the small shelter sounded like. Since we’d started New Beginnings, or Haven as the residents had taken to calling it, Knuckles had made sure to always have the main gate manned by two patched members.
We’d been hunted before. We would be again. But this time, they’d dragged Cora into it. They’d regret the line they’d crossed. If it was the bastard I thought it was, I might have to finish what I started.
* * *
Cora
The back seat of the police cruiser smelled like antiseptic and something sour and acrid I couldn’t identify.
OK, that was a lie. I knew exactly what it was, but I refused to consider exactly how close I sat to the stink of piss and vomit.
Through the window, I stared at my car sitting abandoned in the gas station parking lot as we pulled away.
Detective Reeves drove in silence, his eyes occasionally flicking to the rearview mirror to check on me.
Beside him, Detective Mercer kept her gaze forward, her profile sharp against the passing streetlights.
She had my phone tucked into her pocket.
Confiscated “for evidence” she’d said when she’d patted me down.
“Just a friendly chat,” Reeves said when they’d intercepted me at the gas station where I’d stopped to fill up before heading to the compound.
Nothing friendly about the way he’d flashed his badge, or how Mercer had stood blocking the path to my car.
Nothing friendly about the tight grip on my arm as they’d guided me to the cruiser.
I’d be lucky if I didn’t have his fingerprints in a chain of bruising around my upper arm.
“How much longer?” I asked, hating the tremor in my voice.
“Not far to the station,” Mercer replied without turning around. Her tone wasn’t unkind, just professionally distant. “Ten minutes, tops.”
I’d tried texting Marcus when I first spotted them following me, but they’d pulled me over before I could. The half-written message sat unsent in my phone’s memory, now in Mercer’s possession. I wondered if Marcus was waiting for me, if he’d noticed I was late.
The police station loomed ahead, gray and utilitarian against the evening sky. Reeves pulled into a reserved spot near a side entrance, away from the main doors.
“This way,” Mercer said after opening my door. No handcuffs, at least. Small mercies.
They led me through a series of hallways, each looking identical to the last. Officers glanced up as we passed, their expressions ranging from curiosity to indifference.
The interrogation room was exactly like on TV and in the movies.
A small room with a metal table bolted to the floor and three uncomfortable-looking chairs represented everything.
A large, one-way mirror took up most of one wall.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everyone in a sickly pallor that made even Detective Mercer’s healthy complexion look slightly jaundiced.
“Have a seat, Ms. English.” Reeves gestured to the chair facing the mirror.
I sat, placing my hands flat on the table to hide their trembling. “Am I under arrest?”